I heard His voice upon the gale,
“Arise, go forth,” so ran the tale.
But lo, I turned and fled His face,
And sought the deeps to flee His grace.
The tempest rose, the billows raged,
By lot and guilt I was engaged.
Cast down to death, in fish confined,
Yet mercy found me still inclined.
He brought me forth on shore once more,
And bade me speak what I abhor.
To Nineveh I raised His cry:
“Repent, or ye shall surely die!”
They rent their robes, they bowed their head,
From king to beast, in dust they pled.
And God, who seeth hearts contrite,
Did turn His wrath and spare their plight.
I sat me down with bitter heart,
For judgment seemed to not take part.
A gourd He gave to shade my frame,
Then took it hence, and scorched the same.
He spake: “Thou mourn’st for vine that died,
Yet would’st not grieve if men had cried?
Should I not spare the souls therein,
Who knew not right, nor fled from sin?”
Thus was I taught beneath the tree,
That grace outpours where wrath should be.
His ways are deep, His mercies wide,
And I, though proud, was not denied.
-
Author:
Brian Otucho (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: April 26th, 2025 03:00
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 10
Offline)
Comments2
Good write B.
Thanks 🩵🩵
The story of Jonah and the whale and more. This really was well written and reads much smoother than the biblical version. Loved it
I appreciate that
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